Never Be the Same
by Mydnattsol
Summary: Harry will never be the same. The end of fifth year completely crushed him. He learnt many secrets that were kept away from him, secrets that changed him. How will he rebuild his life from the ruins it fell into? Who can he trust?


PROLOGUE:

"SIRUIS!" screamed Harry as a jet of light hit his godfather squarely in the chest. "No, SIRIUS!"

He watched as his godfather's body gracefully curved backwards and began falling down the bleachers. It seemed like an eternity had passed before Sirius' body reached the ground and slid under the veil. Yet, albeit the slow pace at which everything appeared to be progressing, Harry was powerless to save the one person he cherished the most in the world. He moved to go save him, to reach for Sirius' body that was just hidden behind a thin layer of cloth, but Remus Lupin grabbed him around the chest and stopped him from rushing towards the last place where Harry had seen his godfather's face, still imprinted with his handsome smile.

"No, there's nothing you can do, Harry. You can't save him... Nothing," said Lupin in a pained voice. "He's gone."

"No, it's not true. He's just behind the veil! We can still reach him... SIRIUS! Sirius… No…" cried Harry, bucking against Lupin's restraint. "Answer me…"

He waited a few moments; listening for his godfather's bark like laugh. He waited for him to just shove the veil away and say that is was a joke. However, Sirius never came back. He realized that Sirius had never made him wait like that before. Harry was screaming his name, panicking, there was no way that his godfather would keep him waiting unless... Unless, he couldn't come back.

Harry raised his face towards the top of the bleachers where Bellatrix Lestrange stood above everyone else. He could barely see her through the tears that had started seeping from his eyes but he could still hear her. Lestrange voice sounded from across the room. She was laughing manically, no doubt proud of her vile act. She had just murdered her own cousin out of cold-blood and still she felt good about it.

And then… And then it was as if something broke inside of him. A dark force mixed with his blood and spread like poison through his veins. It revitalized his tired body, fuelled his magic. His eyes narrowed, the mysterious dark power feeding his hatred. Bellatrix turned her head and looked at Harry, a crocked smile stretching her lips.

"I hate you. I'll make you regret what you did," said Harry in a calm voice, his tears gone, even if she wasn't able to hear him.

Something about the feverish glint in Harry's eyes unnerved Bellatrix. She abruptly turned around and fled.

Harry's eyes widened, she was _not_ going to get away. He _will_ get his revenge. Harry wrenched himself away from Lupin's loosened hold. Remus had let his guard down for a moment and now Harry was tearing his way through the bodies still battling each other. He briefly wondered how they could still fight, how they could not care about his godfather's death. The sadness that spread to him at that thought was soon distorted into hatred. He stopped his train of thoughts and set his body on autopilot.

Harry was running, running swiftly through a hallway. His feet were striking the floor at a fast tempo, his heart pounding to the same rhythm and his breath coming in short, fast pants. He was so focus on catching up to Bellatrix that he was blind to the architectural beauty of the Ministry of Magic's atrium.

Then, he saw her, running ahead of him, striving for the telephone booth that would bring her to the surface in Muggle London. He could not let her escape. Ignoring the pain in his legs, the burning of his lungs, he forced himself to run faster.

Bellatrix turned her head and saw him catching up to her. She fired a hex over her shoulder. Harry, concentrating on catching up, didn't even dodge the nasty curse flying his way but, luckily, it missed him by a foot. Bellatrix couldn't aim while running.

Suddenly, she stopped and turned to face him. Harry stopped as well, leaning slightly forward to catch his breath. They stayed there for a few seconds, both panting and unmoving. Finally, Bellatrix broke the silence.

"Aren't you going to do anything, baby Potter? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin," she laughed.

"Yes, that's why I'm here!" Harry bellowed with determination. His voice echoed for a while throughout the hall.

"Ahahahahah, you had to really _love_ him," she continued in a baby voice. "Is little Harry going to miss him? Can't say I will. He got what he deserved, blood traitor!"

The hatred was back, more powerful than ever. Harry raised his wand and aimed at her chest.

"Crucio," he said in a slightly quivering voice.

Both set of eyes widened in surprise. Harry had not planned to use that curse. The spell hit Bellatrix and she fell to the ground with a shout of astonishment more than pain. The Cruciatus curse had barely winded her.

"It's your first time throwing an Unforgivable Curse isn't it, little boy?" she asked while standing up. "You have to really _mean_ it, to really _want_ the other's pain! To find pleasure in it. Righteous anger has very little effect on me."

'_To find pleasure in seeing someone else's pain? Would I be able to?' _Harry asked himself. The darkness inside of him purred and fed him with images of Bellatrix writhing on the floor, screaming in pain. He liked that image, he liked it very much. He could do it, he decided. Yes, he could do it for all the ones she had tortured, for Neville's parents and most of all, for Sirius.

"Crucio," he repeated, his mind focused on the end result.

The Unforgivable hit her once more and she fell to the floor again. Her body was violently twisting and rolling around at Harry's feet. A long screech of pain was torn from her throat.

Harry lifted the curse and Belatrix laid there, panting and staring up at Harry in disbelief.

"Crucio."

Again, the monstrous curse hit her and she started writhing in agony. After a minute or two under the influence of the hex, Harry had lost his sense of time, Bellatrix started screaming and it was music to the wizard's ears. No sound had ever felt this satisfying before. However, after what seemed to be a short time for Harry but a long time for Bellatrix, he lifted the curse.

"Crucio"

The same routine repeated itself again and again and again. Harry couldn't help but feel disgusted when he realized he was taking a twisted pleasure in this torture business. Yet, he couldn't help the gratification he experienced at the growing fear in her eyes. For all the wrong she had done, he wanted her to suffer like this for the rest of her life, for the rest of _eternity_.

Bellatrix Lestrange's screams of agony lessened is volume as time went by, her throat no doubt becoming raw for all the yelling it was doing. Soon, only small whimpers could be heard from her mangled body on the floor.

"M... Master," she croaked.

"You really think he's going to hear you? That he's going to come here. For you?" Harry laughed.

At least, he thought he was laughing. However, his vision was getting blurry and he couldn't stop the demented laughter pouring out of his mouth.

"Master... Mas... ter," Bellatrix continued.

Suddenly, Harry realized something, something awful. He didn't know if he crying or laughing anymore. It was maddening. His vision was blurry with the tears streaming down his face and his laughter had morphed into sobs.

"He won't come, he can't hear..." Harry said.

"Really, Potter?" asked a glacial voice somewhere further in front of him.

Harry looked up from the crumpled form on the floor and saw one of his worst nightmares coming true. Voldemort was standing in the Ministry of Magic's vestibule, tall and proud.

"Come here, Bellatrix," Voldemort ordered her Death Eater.

"Mast... Master," she croaked, her eyes still fixated on a random spot on the floor.

"Bellatrix?" Voldermort asked.

While looking into Voldemort's unnerving red eyes, Harry saw a flash of emotion, perhaps sadness, passing quickly through them. It shocked Harry that a cold-blooded murderer like Voldermort was still capable of feeling emotions.

It was then that the horror of his act hit him squarely in the face. He had _tortured _someone. He had _tortured_ someone until _insanity_. He had _tortured _someone and _liked _it. Harry felt his stomach lurched; his heart was lodged in his throat. His actions left him physically sick. He couldn't believe he had done that. He had ruined someone's life. He was no better than Voldemort.

Suddenly, Harry felt his body being thrown backward. Voldemort had tossed a curse at him. Which, Harry did not know. However, Harry guessed it was the cruciatus curse because of Voldermort's fondness for that particular Unforgivable. He probably just didn't feel the pain racing through his nerves and up his spine because he was shocked, his brain was numbed to the pain.

Harry raised his head to see Voldemort aim his wand at him to throw another curse when there was a commotion to his left. Dumbledore had arrived.

The old man looked down at his protégé and then at Voldemort.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," Dumbledore stated steadily. "The Aurors are on their way-"

"And, by the time they arrive, you shall be dead!" proclaimed Voldemort.

Dead… Dead like his parents were. Dead like Cedric was. Dead like Sirius was. Dead like all the others, wizards and muggles alike, were because of this mad man. Then Harry broke down, sobs racked his body violently as he fell to the floor. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he had no awareness has to the battle that was raging next to him. Harry was only conscious of the pain of losing someone he truly cared about, someone that had been, in all but blood, is only family for two years. He felt the hurt seeping into his veins. It made every single heartbeat a torture, and also rendered breathing an excruciating effort. He was so far gone that Harry hadn't even realized that Dumbledore had hexed the fountain to act as a shield between him and the Dark Lord.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" asked Voldemort, tired of having the headmaster only dodging his spells.

"There are other ways to destroy a wizard, Tom. Ways you know not of, but ways that are crueler than death itself," replied Dumbledore calmly.

"Nothing is worse than death," scoffed Voldemort.

'_This is,'_ Harry thought. He felt so empty, so _tired_ of it all. Maybe, just maybe, the battle could end tonight. If he died, then he wouldn't have to worry about anything else. He could be with Sirius again, and with his parents for the first time in fourteen years.

Harry pushed himself off the floor. He needed to help Dumbledore. He jumped in action and starting firing all the hexes and jinxes he knew in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name's direction. He hoped to distract his target giving some time for the headmaster to carry out the kill. Spell and spell, he fired everything he had until he couldn't anymore. Why hadn't Dumbledore moved? Why hadn't Dumbledore done _anything_?

"Tired already, Potter?" snickered Voldemort. He took his eyes off Dumbledore and turned them on Harry instead.

That is when Harry Potter's scar burst open. Emotional pain was hells, but doubled by this physical pain, it was unbearable. He was going to see Sirius again, he was going to see Cedric again, and even his parents. Amid all the pain, hope filled his heart; hope that his pain would end. He had hope that he would never feel again. While hope filled Harry's being, he blacked out completely.

DISCLAIMER: This starts off from the battle scene of Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix. This is why some of the dialogue/battle scene/actions are the same as the book. I give credits for that to the original author.

Also, this is my first time writing and publishing an entry. Please be kind to me. ^^ I try my best to make sure that everything is proof read multiple times as to ensure a high quality of grammar and syntax.

Please review and tell me how you like it so far.


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